


Let's Get Better

by thetoesknows



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Abuse, After Album Five, Fresh Start, Happy Ending, I'm new at this, M/M, No Ace Copular, Sex..?, Teenaged Noodle, Therapy, getting better, ummm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 14:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetoesknows/pseuds/thetoesknows
Summary: Murdoc is back from jail. He and the rest of the Gorillaz are un a very tense relationship. He wants to make things better.This is the story of getting better.





	1. Home

Chapter One

 

Home

 

Murdoc’s POV

The car ride back to the house was heaven, and in Murdoc’s case this meant it was the most painful experience of his life, even after a year in prison, it all paled in comparison to the glower of Russell Hobbs, the deathly silence of Noodle, and the absence of 2D.

He tried to muster up the anger to fight with them, to scream and say they were horrible for leaving him in there, to tell them they were terrible, useless band partners, but he couldn’t, because all of that would be a lie, and as much as Murdoc was good at lying, he knew he deserved it.

Russell and Noodle seemed to know the same thing. They said nothing to him, except when Russell asked, “Anything else we need to do before we go?” He sounded like at any minute he’d draw a knife to Murdoc’s throat.

“Nah, they can keep the gold, need it more than I do.” He said.

They both looked disgusted at him, the drummer curling his lip up, the guitarist just sneered. They both had the right to. He was as bad as it got.

He sat in the back seat of the car, Russell in the passenger’s seat, eyes glued to a book he was reading ( when did Russ read?), humming a song, Noodle driving. Wait, when had she learned to drive? Satan, he’d missed her sixteenth. He’d missed her getting a permit, her dying her hair blue.

His stomach dropped, shame filled his chest.

The thing is, while in prison, he got to do a lot of thinking. Murdoc had hours to be left be, no booze, no birds, no pills or plastic cups to wash in a washing machine. He’d thought alot about what he’d done to get there.

At first he was pissed, not just pissed actually, furious, that not a single one of them had come to bail him out, or back him up during court, that they didn’t see him as all powerful Murdoc Niccals.

Then, well, then he just had to learn about how things went in prison. The forty year old tried his cocky stunt, bragging that he was a famous musician to his inmate.

That conversation ended up with his black mop of hair being pushed in a toilet. This quickly taught the bassist, keep your mouth shut and your eyes straight. Prison taught him other things, things he blocked out, just like his past. It all got shoved behind a closet door in his head somewhere.

Satan forbid he ever open that closet.

Well, he did, because besides being dangerous, prison was dull, and there was nothing to pass the time but to think. And thoughts were monsters to Murdoc. Attacking him in nightmares, flashes of his regrets, his terrible temper. His selfishness. What he’d truly done to all his band members.

Plastic Beach ripped through his mind, along with hitting his singer with a car, getting used in prison to stay alive, and his father. The closet opened up and all Murdoc could do was let it, sitting in his squeaky, hard bed, tears unable to fall.

Now, he sat in the back of a car, his adopted daughter pretending he didn’t exist, his friend hating him.

“You think D’s done with his appointment yet?” The Brooklyn native wondered.

 _Appointment?_ Murdoc wondered, about to open his mouth to ask. “I hope so!" Noodle exclaimed, "Toochie wanted to make dinner tonight, and he also was gonna help with my resume.” Her voice and face lit up. Clearly, neither of them were talking to him.

She could get a job.

 _No, not “Toochie.”_ He thought, his heart pulling at the thought of little Noodle in his arms as a young kid. He hadn't heard her say that to his singer in years, last he spoke to her, she was in her punk phase. 

“Yeah, therapy’s really been helpin’.”

A whole new wave of guilt filled Murdoc’s chest, and it hurt so bad. It’s like Russell said that just to jab at him, he probably did.

God, 2D. Dents, Faceache, Stuart, Stu, and sometimes even Stupot.

Murdoc wished he could do anything to take it back, to apologize for the way his messed up head hurt everyone. Especially the bluenett.

The satanist could barely admit it to himself, but he missed the way those black eyes looked when he sang, wrenching at his heart, or the constant babble of the singer.

He picked at his trimmed fingernails, courtesy of the care providers at jail, calling how long they were dangerous.

They hit a pothole, the car radio blared a song loudly and then Noodle slammed it off.

2D’s POV

“What’s wrong, Stuart, you seem quiet today?” Dr. Lucky said, her brow furrowed in worry.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Stuart Harold Pot murmured, shuffling his feet together.

“I don’t think it’s nothing, remember, my job is to help you Stuart. I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.” Her kind tone soothed the singer, and he felt his tense skinny shoulders loosen.

“Muds is coming back, today, and I don’t think I can do this, I tried everything, all I want to do is go back to six months ago.” 2D said, his eyes flicking from black to grey to white to gold to red.

“When is he coming back?” The doctor asked.

“Today.”

“Why don’t you think you can do it?”

“Cuz,” the blue-haired man answered, trying to keep himself from falling apart, “I-I-I hate him, and yet he’s my best friend. I want him to just go away, but I also really miss him an awful lot. I told you what he did to me on Plastic Beach, and how he always hurt me, and called me names, and hit me with a car, an-” 2D stopped talking to choke back a sob, his head was being torn apart, the feelings were too much for him. He was a river, and these thoughts were rain.

 _I’m gonna overflow_.

“Remember how I told you how strong you are, Stuart? I know you can do this, you’ve been through a lot, and he’s part of it, but, maybe working to forgive him will help.”

“M-m-m-maybe…” the pianist stared down at his sweaty palms, visions of things worse than Muds flashed in his head, but it all linked back to him.

“I know it’s difficult, but remember positive talk!” She said, a small encouraging smile lit up the room.

“You’re right!” 2D said, nodding, convincing himself, he could do this, sitting up a little straighter.

“Also, on the bright side, you said earlier this session that you were going to spend time with your little sister.”

“Yeah, she needs help with homework, but she’s doing really well in school so I figured I’d make dinner for her.”

“Oh! What kind of dinner?”

“Funnily enough, stew!”

They both laughed, and 2D tried his best to stay happy.

Positive energy gives positive karma.

 

Murdoc’s POV

The car swerved in front of the house as Noodle hit the brakes.

“Girl, you’re crazy!” Russell groaned, rubbing the back of his head, which had been whipped into the seat.

Noodle grinned, and Murdoc could see himself in her for a moment. He was both proud and terrified at the same time.

The guitarist disappeared into the house with a loud slam, and for a second all was forgiven because Russell looked directly at Murdoc and said, “It’s like having a pet hurricane.”

Then he realized that he was talking to the bassist, and his gaze froze over again.

“Just get inside, you stink, I want you to bathe before anything else.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Tch.”

As Murdoc got out of the car, and walk towards the house, his heart hurt. He had been so homesick, and as much as he hated to admit it, there was nothing that made him more content.

The bassist started to notice things that had changed. There were four cars instead of two, the house was painted a blueish grey instead of its old brown, the door was painted too, bright yellow, and there was a welcome matt that said, “Wipe Your Paws.”

He hadn’t realized he’d been standing still until he was shoved forward by Russell.

“Watch it!” he cried out. He couldn’t stand being touched by surprise anymore, his father's hands echoed in his nerves.

“Just get inside.” The drummer sounded tired.

Murdoc compiled, heart still jumping at the sudden touch. It put him on edge.

Once he entered the house he was overwhelmed. Everything looked different. The floor was wood, no longer carpet, the couch was new, there were piles of books by the stairs, shoes in a row on the rug to the yard, and no more black curtains.

There wasn’t much of anything black.

He walked even farther in, going to a hallway filled with hung pictures by 2D, scribbled and brightly colored, searching for a trace of an ashtray, a hint of Satan, a smidge of hatred.

He knew he shouldn’t have taken it personally, but he did. It was like they had tried to erase any bit of him. Anything left of Murdoc was gone, all replaced with things he’d missed. Because they didn’t want him back, they wanted him in prison till the end of time.

_I bet that’s it, they think they can just erase me, I’ll show them._

He was seconds away from storming to the fridge, surrounded by a new light-blue painted, tiled countered kitchen, chugging whatever alcohol was there, and going, until he heard a voice that made his whole body stiffen like a soldier.

“Oh, hiya Muds.”

2D stood at the front door, holding a grocery bag, eyes as white as snow.

Murdoc’s armor melted and all he could do was stare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I just want to say thank you to anyone reading this! I love comments, and any ideas for the next 31 chapters!


	2. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The house is full of tension. Can everyone get along okay?

2D's POV  
2D felt his heart stop.

 _Shit!_ He thought, because his worn heart twist in his chest, like it was trying to hop on a balloon and float into the clouds.

"Hiya, Muds." He said, glancing at the older man.

Murdoc looked like he was one of the undead, from the zombie flicks 2D loved to watch. He was thinner, his hair was long and shaggy, so you could barely see his tired mismatched eyes. He was paler, sadder, emptier looking. Death warmed over.

He seemed especially gaunt standing next to Russell, who had a bright flash of anger in his white eyes, and a neon t-shirt that said, “BANANAS,” on it.

The bassist continued to loom silently, fixed on 2D.

Those eyes. Looking like two lonely planets, Mars and Pluto, maybe.

He thought that the black-haired man would pummel him, he would knock his remaining teeth out and throw him away, into a pile of trash.

_The beach all over again._

"Hiya, Faceache." Murdoc murmured back to him, waving his hand, an almost watery smirk playing his features.

2D couldn’t have been more surprised, he had honestly come home expecting a row, to have to stand up for himself.

“How you been?” Stu ask.

“How do you think I’ve been, Dents?” The bassist continued to glare.

“I dunno, seems like prison would be your kinda place, how should I know.” 2D couldn’t help but take a jab at him, almost grinning at seeing the look of surprise on Muds’s face. The great, all powerful Murdoc wasn’t so powerful anymore.

But maybe D could be.

* * *

  


Murdoc’s POV

He couldn’t believe his ears.

The fight in 2D’s voice.

It was something he’d never heard, and he’d never believe he’d hear.

* * *

  


2D’s POV

He stood there for a second before waving at Russell.

“I got Noodle some snacks, we’re gonna watch a movie tonight.”

“Sweet, can I join, it’s been a while since I’ve watched a movie with my baby girl.”

“Course you can, silly!”

2D tried to avoid eye contact with Murdoc as he talked, until he noticed him moving closer. Alarms rang in his head but he stood his ground, thinking happy thoughts.

_You're in a cotton candy shop filled with puppies. The puppies are all wearing tiny raincoats._

Russell's silent fury could hold no longer.

“Niccals, if you even lay a **finger** on him, I’m calling the police!”

“Just wanted to know why his eyes were white, is all!” Murdoc cried indignantly.

Stuart studied the bassist before stating.

“It’s cuz you were gone, I wasn’t so sad anymore.”

“Oh…” Murdoc mentioned nothing after that, simply turning around, tryingto become a shadow.

The pianist wanted to be upset, but he couldn't.

Anger didn’t come.

Not when the older man had this air of dread surrounding him.

* * *

  


Murdoc's POV

Even though he felt the pressing guilt of this newfound information, the only thing that registered was the singer, and how much the man in subject had changed.

_He stands taller._

Treetop tall, legs long and endless, back straight, shoulders back, head held high. His blue hair even looked longer.

_He's wearing shorts. When did he ever wear bloody shorts? Couldn't get him to wear anything but those damn jeans._

Dents was wearing green shorts, a low cut striped shirt, and a green hoodie. His eyes glowed white, inquizitive and curious. He had color in his cheeks, and forever that space where he two front teeth used to sit.

Murdoc fought the urge to hug him. What the hell was he fucking thinking?

"Muds, I gotta get through the hall, if you need any help, just tell me." The words surprised the bassist, but he didn’t let it show, simply grunting, "I doubt it." And continuing to the stairs.

“Just in case, I’m cooking, so you know where to find me,” 2D called up to him, “Russ, help me with the groceries.”

“Alrighty, you buy instant ramen.”

“Well, duh.” D snorted.

“You know me so well, man.”

“Where’s Noodle?”

“I don’t have a clue, oh by the way, she almos-”

The rest of the conversation was drowned out by Murdoc closing the door to his room, which looked the same as it did when he had left.

Why did it disgust him? The smell of booze used to calm him, make him feel at home, now it just made him queasy, memories rearing their ugly heads.

He heard the laughter of Noodle, and a mumble of Faceache from down the stairs.

He almost joined them.

 _I don’t need them, just music_ , he lied, looking around for his radio. It was covered in leopard print underwear and a cape. Once he found it he flipped through the channels, looking for any good song. He was about to give up when he heard it,

_"Come by the long lake"_

Murdoc’s eyes widened, it was 2D’s voice, he knew it anywhere, hoarse, tired, drunk, sick. It was unavoidable when you’d known someone for as long as they’d known each other. It was unavoidable when that voice was the one that sang his songs.

But this wasn’t a song he’d ever heard.

Maybe that was okay.

_"Deep in the summer day"_

Why was he crying?

_"I'll be there with you"_

That series of words jolted through him like lightning. It was like Stuart Toss was whispering confessions in his ear, even if that was utterly untrue, it made the black-haired man smile. Murdoc looked around his room as the song ended.

_Time to clean this place out, smells terrible…. Or is that me?_

He checked, almost vomiting,

“Uggh, nevermind, shower immediately.” sighing he dragged himself in the shower.

* * *

  


2D’s POV

“How are you feeling D?”

The blue-haired man rolled his eyes at the question. He knew this was coming, and while he appreciated Russell caring, this question had been repeated exactly for two weeks.

“I’m fine Russ, just hungry.”

“Are you sure? He was acting weird back there, do you need to talk abou-” The drummer was about to continue but 2D cut him off.

“Yes I’m sure, and no, I’m tired of talking about shit, I’m tired of dwelling on things. I got my anger out on him a bit and that’s great for now. I get it, I’m fucked up because of him, but if I stay worried it’s not gonna do much good.” The singer felt like he was going to explode, just like at the therapist’s office. Too much emotion, too little time.

Seeing his stress, Russell dropped it, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“Alright then, what’s for dinner ‘sides ramen.”

“Stew.”

A door slammed from upstairs and in two seconds appeared Noodle, wearing pjs, her blue hair in two pigtails.

“Stew!!!” She screeched.

“What?” Stu wondered, a smile on this face.

“Nothing, just excited for dinner.”

“Whatcha say my nam- ohhhh.” His face turned red, but soon all three of them were laughing.

“Still kinda empty in here sometimes,” 2D joked, knocking on his head, “think the car that hit me might be good at maths.”

“Nah, but I do think that car can remember all our birthdays.” Russ said, grabbing the cutting board, ready to chop veggies.

Noodle snorted, “You need any help, Toochie?”

“Yup, could you start boiling water?” Dinner was going to be pretty easy to make, 2D just had to throw food in a crockpot and leave it. And the instant ramen was practically already cooked. It was getting close to fall, and even though the sun was still bright, warm food sounded promising.

“Is he eating dinner with us?”

Noodle’s question from the sink made the two men freeze. They didn't have a clue how to answer the simple, but simultaneously loaded question.

On one hand Murdoc was back from prison, chip still on his shoulder, an avid drinker, druggie, and an incredibly violent person. He'd berated his band members for years, he was cocky, prideful, and full of problems. Making amends would be irritating and likely impossible.

On the other hand, he was still their bandmate, still the Murdoc who sometimes colored with Noodle when she was little, and played poker with Russell, and tought 2D how to pick up a girl. Still the Murdoc who told Stuart that he was “brilliant,” and “amazing!” Still the Murdoc who had looked so sad when he heard why D’s eyes were white.

The singer didn’t want to leave that Murdoc alone in his smelly room. “I’m, well, I’m not sure. You could ask him if you wanna.”

“D, you’re nuts, he looked like he was going to pummel you.” Russell protested, “What if he hurts her?”

“He won’t, if you really don’t trust him I’ll go get him.”

“Yeah, you better, and scream if you need help, got it?”

“I won’t.” Stu didn’t really know for sure, but walking on eggshells wouldn’t do anything. And he almost missed those moments when Muds was human.

He went up their rickety stairs, the glossy wood cool against his hand.

As much as the singer knew the satanist wanted to be a demon, he was just a person, albeit shitty, but a person all the same.

_He didn’t treat you like one._

The voice in his head surprised him, and he felt his temper flare, but his therapist’s wise words of forgiveness made him feel otherwise.

 _He might now. He might be better,_ He thought optimistically.

 


End file.
